The Stash - Episode 2

The yogurt sat on the nightstand like it knew something we didn't. Greek. Plain. Expiration date from last week. I watched her peel the lid anyway, dip two fingers in, and smear it across her inner thigh without asking. The air in the hotel room smelled like seawater and whatever cheap lotion the maid left by the sink. She climbed on top and the sheets felt too tight, too starched. I pushed the waistband of her dress down to her knees and she spread for me without hesitation. My tongue found the yogurt first, then the warm salt of her skin beneath it. She tasted sharp, almost sour, but the heat underneath made it worth the risk. Outside the balcony doors, a ferry horn sounded. We didn't stop. She leaned back on her palms and let me eat the rest, thighs trembling, breath catching on every second drag of my tongue. When she finally pulled me up by the hair, her mouth tasted like the same yogurt and something sweeter she hadn't let me reach yet. We fucked with the windows open. The Mediterranean wind kept pushing the curtain against my back like it wanted in. She came twice before I did, legs locked around my waist, one heel still hooked in the sheets. After, she reached for the yogurt again and fed me the last spoonful from her finger while I stayed inside her, softening. Neither of us mentioned the date on the lid.